


The Post Office

by bukkunkun



Series: Magic Doesn't Exist [1]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Cecil is a Magical Girl, Crossdressing, Fainting, M/M, Magical Girls, Monster of the Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 07:19:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunkun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on <a href="http://imaginenightvale.tumblr.com/post/60867218895/imagine-cecil-as-an-honest-to-goodness-magical"> this</a> post on Tumblr.</p><p>Carlos moves into a new town and finds that things aren't really worth moving in there for.</p><p>... Or is it?</p><p>A WtNV Canon-divergent AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Post Office

**Author's Note:**

> I WROTE THIS FOR THE MAGICAL GIRL THING OKAY I'M NOT REPENTANT BUT THIS WILL BE A SERIES THAT'LL FEATURE MORE THAN THIS I JUST WROTE THIS BECAUSE I'M IN A RUSH TO GET SOMETHING OUT BECAUSE I JUST REALLY LIKE THE IDEA OF CECIL IN DRESSES OK
> 
> SCREAMS LOUDLY G A R T E R B E L T S
> 
> Series alternatively named Magical ☆ Octo Cecil Palmer Magika.
> 
> EDIT: GODDAMNIT EPISODE 33

Carlos _should_ have prepared himself for things like this. He _knew_ that being in _Night Vale_ , of all places, was going to be, in the very least… interesting.

No amount of mental preparation could prepare him for _this_ , though.

He stood there, stock-still, eyes wide, and that police-issue firearm his _tío_ had made him bring along with him when he found out he was moving away to some obscure little desert town in the middle of nowhere (that, strangely, never appeared on any maps other than this old, old one Carlos found in his house’s attic, rolled up in what looked like bits of cat skin, and written on what seemed like dried human skin). He had protested against this, since he was really just there to study the place—he had gotten a letter from some big science company to go check the place out for them, and Carlos, aching for some new experience, jumped at the opportunity.

“ _Carlos! What if it’s dangerous, you’ve seen all those shows about cities in the desert_ ,” his uncle told him before he stormed upstairs to pack up his clothes, “Things _happen there, I don’t want my little Carlito to get into anything stupid_!”

“ _Tío Emilio!_ ” he had whined right back, “ _Those are just TV shows! Science fiction!”_

“ _They still have science in their name_!”

He had scoffed at that, and turned away, but now, he was silently wishing he had actually listened to what he had been told, as he stared up at the billowing void-black smoke coming out of the Post Office, the shrieking of human souls being destroyed tearing through the air and crawling beneath his skin, making it crawl. He shivered, uneasily taking the safety off his handgun, and warily approached the door of the Post Office.

His team went over to the Post Office to start off their investigation of the little town they had moved in. It was quaint, almost normal, really, save for possibly those strange hooded figures near the DogPark. No one on the team knew exactly what the fuss was all about, despite all their questioning in their press con not too long ago.

Now, their first investigation certainly went awry. Two of his teammates—he didn’t even have the chance to get to know them well—were _in_ there, and he didn’t know if they were…

He shook his head, his locks bouncing about his vision, and mentally he reminded himself to get a haircut—on the way to their lab, he had spotted a sign for a barber shop on the way.

Mundane activities later, Carlos, he told himself, gulping nervously as he carefully made his way to the door, his fingers brushing against the wood uncertainly as he pushed it open—

And his eyes widened to see a gigantic shadow-creature, with multitudes of eyes and a wide, gaping mouth he thought would only see in those strange Studio Ghibli movies he saw when he was younger. His heart lodged into his throat and all the blood in his veins froze in fear, as his eyes widened in shock and horror at the scene before him:

There was blood _all over_ the walls—with written words written haphazardly, messily, with blood streaking down from them, so messed-up that he couldn’t make out the words they were spelling. There was viscera and torn flesh tossed all over the place, dismembered body parts and bodies littering the floor left and right, and Carlos could see half-torn people, still alive, weakly pulling themselves around, trying to get away from the monster in the middle of the post office.

Okay, so _maybe_ that faculty spot grant back in Washington sounded _so_ much better right now.

A gurgling plea of help snapped Carlos out of his daze, and he turned his head to see the top half of a person dragging themselves over to where he was across the floor, clearly desperate, and in pain, and Carlos felt a heavy weight fall to his gut when he noticed the white coat the person—well, half of them, anyway—was wearing.

This was a teammate of his.

He resisted the urge to throw up as he turned around quickly to avert his eyes from such a horrific sight, his knees shaking, and he bit his knuckles, trying to silence the scream bubbling in his throat, as slowly, the monster turned around to face him.

A messy gurgle from his dying teammate caught his attention and he sneaked a glance at them to realise they were pointing at the gun in his hand.

He blinked, fighting the bitter burn of bile rising up in his throat, and he _understood_.

 _Fight_.

Shaking, he raised the gun, as the monster turned a third of the way around, and he fired a shot into one of the larger eyes, silently thankful his aim was as competent as his cousin’s, at least, but he winced as the recoil slammed into his shoulder without warning, and with a little gasp, he let go of the gun, gripping his wrist tightly as pain shot up his entire arm.

“ _Shit_!” he swore, backing away, scowling as the monster let out an ear-splitting wail, sludge that may have served as its blood oozing out of its damaged eye as it dropped what it was holding, turning around rapidly to face him, its other eyes narrowed into angry slits, its mouth opening wide to growl at him, baring its sharp, bloodstained, gore-stuck teeth, allowing him view of the parts of human it ate, and half-heartedly chewed.

The room stank of death and blood, and it took all Carlos had to not throw up, or worse, fall unconscious. Epinephrine rushing through his senses was the only thing keeping him upright, right now, shaking wildly in panic and fear as he hurried to pick up his _tío_ ’s handgun again, but this time, he wasn’t sure if he could hit anything if he fired, as he shakily aimed it at the creature, at the large central eye that blinked right at him.

“S-stay back,” he weakly said, his what little left of his resolve quickly crumbling to pieces when he saw a sludge of human bits, bones and viscera slip out from the monster’s gaping mouth. “I—I’ll shoot you.”

It screeched at him, only to let out a wail when it was suddenly hit from behind.

“You’re looking for me!” he heard a male voice call from behind the monster, and his eyes widened when he saw two more explosions from either side of the monster, and it fell to the ground in a screeching, screaming heap of black sludge and blood. Paper flew everywhere, torn and immaculate, as dust flew into the air, and in the midst of it all, Carlos looked on, shocked, and slack-jawed.

“Dana!” the voice called again.

“You got it, Cecil!” he heard a girl’s voice pipe up from above him, and suddenly light filled the room. Carlos winced, and covered his eyes with a hand, as he felt warmth brush his arms and body.

It was oddly calming; despite the trauma he had just gained in less than half an hour, and it got Carlos feeling all the more stranger, and more curious about the town.

It felt… _magical_ , but he knew that out of all things, _magic_ didn’t exist.

The light died down, and much to his surprise the monster was gone when he opened his eyes, leaving behind only wreckage and blood, and bodies, and two individuals standing in the middle of the wrecked post office—a young woman dressed from head to toe with denim, a denim jacket that only reached her bust and sleeves that only went down to her elbows, on top a blue tank top, and denim pants with more scratches, cuts and bloodstains than Carlos was sure came with the purchase of the item.

The man she was with— _well_.

A fierce blush crossed Carlos’s face.

The man was wearing a purple dress, the cocktail skirt reaching to halfway down the thigh, showing thigh-high white stockings held up with garter belts covering slim legs, and feet covered with cute (what, Carlos, what, he thought to himself) purple doll shoes with little wings that were shaped by what looked like octopus tentacles. The dress itself was sleeveless, lacy, with a pretty baby purple ribbon tied at the man’s neck, and another one around his waist, tied in the back, with a purple gem in the middle of the knot. He was wearing gloves—white, bordered with a single, big violent gem in the middle of the hem—that went up to his elbows, and he was wearing the most radiant smile on his face.

That last part wasn’t supposed to come out like that, but it _did_ and Carlos couldn’t understand _why_.

He dropped to his knees, instead, relief flooding his senses, his gun clattering to the ground loudly, catching the woman and the man’s attention.

“Oh!”

“Cecil, isn’t that—”

“That scientist!” the man—Cecil, Carlos reminded himself—gasped, rushing towards him, skirt ruffling as he moved, rushing as he dropped to his knees in front of Carlos, gloved hands darting out forward to catch him as he fell—

Carlos had so much questions in his head, but conking out was probably the best idea he had ever had in—well, _ever_.

He fell unconscious the moment his head went in contact with soft hands, a soft skirt, and an even softer lap.

**Author's Note:**

> i s2g tho the next instalment will be better ugh


End file.
